


Advances in Lockpicking

by AceNoir



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23520412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceNoir/pseuds/AceNoir
Summary: A little fic I wrote between Mine and my friend's D&D characters in the module Princes of the Apocalypse, I just wanted to post it somewhere, I guess
Kudos: 1





	Advances in Lockpicking

Although Red Larch was probably the last place any self respecting noble, famer, or urchin would want to be, Camilo was, at the very least, beginning to enjoy himself among the strange menagerie of mercenaries that they had stumbled into. Now crowded around a small table in the corner of the bustling inn, the party was engrossed in one of Jericho’s spectacles, shuffling and flipping cards while Ssila stared intently at the cards laid out, unblinking. Camilo slung an arm on the back of Jericho’s chair as Jericho leaned back to admire his handiwork. “Well?” he asked the undaunted yuan-ti. After thinking for a moment, she reaches across the table, jabbing a finger on one of the cards.

“There. That’s the lady. I’d bet Droop on it,” she said, smirking at the mellow rogue across the table. “Huh? What?” Droop unwittingly interrupted. “Don’t worry about it,” Ssila responded as Droop went back to playing some sort of mindless game with Miss. Camilo watched Jericho as he flashed a familiar grin. It was cocky and proud, like his signature smile when he gambled among Neverwinter’s crowds. This smile was new, however; it seemed real, compared to the saccharine smile that he’d dish out to rowdy street gamblers and haughty noblemen. It was comforting, watching his friend like this assured Camilo, as if Jericho was delivering a promise that he longed to hear. Camilo gazed upon Jericho with wonder, trying to memorize the exact way Jericho’s face shone in the split second before he flipped the cards and the moment was over.

They hadn’t exactly gotten off on the right foot with this ragtag group of adventurers, and he felt the tension weigh on Jericho; he’d worried that he had upset him, as uprooting his life to follow a philander and a group of homeless barbarians to the middle of nowhere isn’t exactly what he imagined Jericho would like to do. Camilo was surprised that Jericho had obliged, although the thought of indefinitely parting with his dear friend filled him with dread, even retrospectively. Camilo couldn’t imagine sharing these moments with anyone else-sure, the others were amicable enough, but Jericho’s absence in a predicament like this would’ve put Camilo at a loss; Jericho brought an irreplicable form of comfort to him, as if merely having him around was assuring enough-and he supposed that it was. Gods, I must annoy him incessantly, Camilo thought to himself, cracking a small smile to pair with Jericho’s.  
There was an old elvish word to describe such a person as the dark-haired, silver-tongued varlet seated beside him-espiègle; playful, mischievous, roguish, and flirtatious. Almost surprising himself with his own thought, Camilo glanced at the table; Jericho had delivered the final blow to Ssila, flipping her card to reveal the eight of swords as Mitra glanced onward disapprovingly. His one glass of mead must’ve been getting to him-Jericho’s mannerisms towards him couldn’t possibly be amorous, could they? The way Jericho acted around him seemed to be more out of amicable annoyance, but he seemed to be more friendly and outgoing with the others-thinking back, Camilo couldn’t recall when their dynamic even changed, when Jericho became so withdrawn or when he himself started acting so coy with him. He snuck a glance at Jericho, who after humbly consoling Ssila, turned to look at Camilo with a small smile, as if he was seeking his approval. Cheeks burning, Camilo managed to smile back a bit more coquettishly than he’d anticipated. They locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity, both of them failing to notice the goblin climbing onto the table.

“How’d you do that can you teach me are you really magic I wanna know how you did that can you show me?”

They both turned to look at Droop, Camilo’s smile fading. Jericho grinned at Droop. “I dunno, bud, a magician never reveals his secrets. Maybe Cam has something to show you?” Jericho said, turning to Camilo. Camilo cleared his throat.

“I think I’m actually going to retire for the night, but I can teach you a trick tomorrow, if you’d like,”

“Wow really that would be so cool thank you!”

Camilo grinned at the goblin, then turned to Jericho with a warm smile as he got up and climbed up the steps to his room. The door clicked shut, and Camilo turned the lock into place, securing the door. He didn’t have much time to prepare. Camilo doffed his coat and hung it up in the wardrobe, dropping his equipment and kicking off his boots onto the dusty floor. Unbuttoning his shirt down to his navel, he shrugged his shirt off of one of his shoulders and ran his hand through his hair, further disheveling it. He examined his now tousled, boyish appearance in the reflection of the window, nodding to himself in content. Muttering a few enchanted words to himself, Camilo lit the candles on either nightstand, then flopped onto the bed to wait. He impatiently opened the nightstand drawer and fished around inside, pulling out a book titled The Extreme Teen Bible for Followers of Pan. He mindlessly flips through the pages until the door begins to quietly rattle, followed by a click as the door creeps open. A familiar figure slipped inside and shut the door, locking it behind him.

Camilo looked up from the Extreme Teen Bible. “Oh, what an unexpected surprise,” he said frankly as Jericho stood by, removing his own equipment and setting it in a neat pile in the corner of the room.

“I’m sure,” Jericho said as he flopped onto the bed. “What in the nine hells are you reading?”

“Oh, you know, just some light reading,” he replied lightly, tossing the book onto the nightstand. “Some day, huh?”

Jericho sat up to look at Camilo. “Some day!? You almost died!” “Yeah, happens all the time. Besides, you were my knight in shining armor,” Camilo replied, turning on his side to face Jericho.

“Jesus, you can’t downplay this shit! And you can’t rely on me to save you!” Jericho flopped back down onto the bed.

“Oh yeah, like how you disappeared while the rest of us fought three orogs,” Camilo added with a hint of espièglerie.

“Gods, Cam, I went outside to clear my head after I watched you almost fucking die!” Jericho replied, failing to make eye contact with Camilo.

“J, I had no idea, I’m sorry,”

“You have nothing to be sorry about!” Jericho said, stifling a sob.

“Shit, sorry,” Camilo responded, holding back his own tears.

“Stop apologizing for nothing!” Jericho sobbed, finally letting loose everything he’d built up since arriving in the monastery garden. He laid beside Camilo, quivering until Camilo wrapped him in an embrace, Jericho nestling his head into Camilo’s chest. Camilo laid there, wrapped around his friend with matching tears quietly streaming down his face. Jericho was wrong: he had everything to apologize for. Insisting that they leave Thundertree on Camilo’s whim, getting caught up in whatever the Feathergale Knights were doing, and most of all, putting him in this state of inconsolable worry and grief and sadness. Without thinking, Camilo planted a light kiss atop of Jericho’s head, which seemed to calm both of them down a bit.

“It’s gonna take a whole lot more than a couple of magic rocks to take me out,” Camilo said, and felt Jericho grin against his chest. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that to get rid of me, J”

“I know, awful, isn’t it?”

Camilo stifled a laugh as tears continued to stream down his face. Camilo laid still until Jericho’s breathing became even, then whispered a few magic-laced words to himself, snuffing out the candles. Carefully, he pulled the blanket over both of them, falling asleep to the rhythm of Jericho’s heart against his.


End file.
